


Rysiek

by Dawnlit_Waters



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1910s, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Ballet, Character Study, Cold Weather, Dialogue-Only, Factory, First Meetings, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Riches to Rags, Russian Revolution, Winter, World War I
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 01:56:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11281335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawnlit_Waters/pseuds/Dawnlit_Waters
Summary: Labor activist Bruno Vanekow tells sociologist Dr. Alfred Pennyworth about how he came to know, and love, Ryszard Graszynski.





	Rysiek

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by and partially based on the Batman Elseworlds story _The Golden Streets of Gotham_.

"Good Afternoon, Mr. Vanekow."

"Good Afternoon, Dr. Pennyworth. I'm very sorry for my tardiness. The Gotham union local under the United Clothing Workers has decided to take in some children of striking textile workers in and around Blüdhaven as a gesture of solidarity. They arrived earlier today as scheduled, but in a much larger number than we had expected. We had to arrange accommodation for the extra ones."

"It's all right, Mr. Vanekow. You have no need to apologise for such a deed. I gather that the children are all settled now?"

"Yes. Mrs. Kyle-Grant graciously agreed to offer them room and board at the Red Hill Settlement House. I came from there directly after delivering those kids into her capable hands."

"Yet you still seem not entirely relieved."

"I worry about the upcoming winter. The strike will probably carry on into the coldest months, and the resources of Red Hill may be insufficient to provide for the well-being of the strikers' children on top of regular seekers of shelter or support."

"It's my prediction that the Blüdhaven strike will be at least on par with the 1922 strike in New England in terms of length and arduousness. With apparent pro-management and anti-union messages coming steadily from Washington, American labour movement in general is facing a bleak future. All of you need to brace yourselves for the hard times to come. Here is my personal contribution to your noble cause, Mr. Vanekow. See it as my parting gift."

"Five thousand dollars...Dr. Pennyworth, my gratitude for your benevolence and magnanimity is beyond words! How can I ever thank you enough for your support?"

"Well, there is one way, Mr. Vanekow. It's also the reason that I called for this meeting. Enclosed in this envelope are notes I have taken during the past several weeks about garment industry labourforce in Gotham, along with some of my rudimentary observations. I would like you to review and comment on them as both an experienced worker and a labour activist. When you are finished, you can forward them along with your valuable insight to my address in Chicago here on this card."

"I promise you I'll do to the best of my ability, Dr. Pennyworth. I'll also show your work to Rysiek after he comes home for fall break next Thursday. I'm sure he'd like to pitch in and offer his views."

"Splendid. Mr. Graszynski has a wonderful mind, brilliant and sharp. What a shame that this young man had to leave for New York soon after I came to know him, and will only be back after I part ways with Gotham."

"The regret is mutual, Dr. Pennyworth. Rysiek has expressed his heartfelt admiration for you more than once in his letters to me. He's currently reading your  _Methodology of Social Studies_  and finds it very stimulating."

"Ah. In that case, I shall make sure he receives a signed copy. Shall I send it to your address? I'm under the impression that he lives with you."

"Yes, he does. That is, when he's in Gotham."

"Mr. Vanekow, if you don't mind my asking—is Mr. Graszynski a relation of yours? With black hair and blue eyes, he certainly looks the part."

"We're not related by blood. He was an orphan that I took in."

"That's very kind of you."

"Not in a million years could I just leave somebody alone in sub-zero temperature, shivering to death in a strange world."

"A strange world?"

"Well, it's a long story."

"You have piqued my interest, Mr. Vanekow. "

"Up to the age of thirteen, Rysiek was grew up in a world nothing alike that of the Polish factory workers in Gotham. I can tell you more about it, if that's what you wish, Dr. Pennyworth. Rysiek had granted me the permission to disclose his past to you should you ever ask."

"It seems your recount will take some time. I purpose we continue this conversation in the tea room down the street."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to remain here on this fine bench. It's been quite some time since I've last enjoyed a sunny afternoon."

"As an Englishman, I understand the sentiment completely."

"Thank you, Dr. Pennyworth."

"You have my full attention, Mr. Vanekow."

"The winter of 1917 to 1918 was the coldest one ever recorded in Gotham. The lowest daily temperature around New Year's Day regularly dipped into negative, with the highest hovering somewhere around ten. The morning I met Rysiek, I had to break the thick layer of ice inside my water pitcher with the handle of an iron spoon in order to wash my face.

"At that time, we worked day and night to produce summer uniforms for the army. Three pressers had already been called up, and as a result we were seriously short of men. Upon arriving at work, I was glad to learn from my uncle Piotrek—may he rest in peace—that the manager had found me an apprentice. 

"That apprentice was no other than Rysiek. He claimed to be fifteen years old, despite actually being not yet fourteen. The manager intentionally turned a blind eye to the lie in desperation to hire more hands during labor shortage. In a rustic Mazovian accent, Rysiek introduced himself as Ryszard Graszynski, a new immigrant from a village outside Warsaw. He said he understood English but wasn't able to speak it well yet. That posed no problems, since among ourselves we used Polish exclusively.

"Rysiek was a fast learner. He grasped the mechanism of steam clothes-press and memorized the names of its major parts right after I showed him the machine for the first time. By noontime, he could already perform simple tasks on a basic model all by himself. He didn't talk much outside work-related issues. When others asked about his background, he gave the briefest response within the limits of propriety. All we got was that emigrated with an uncle and his parents were not in the States. People lost interest after a couple of attempts to make him open up, assuming he was shy or naturally silent. I, on the other hand, paid close attention to Rysiek, at first simply because he was a novice under my charge, but before long the responsibility of an instructor was joined by ever-growing curiosity.

"There was an air of elegance around Rysiek—it was unassuming, yet unmistakably clear once you noticed it. His posture was impeccable, and he moved in a fluid, graceful way that I'd never seen on anyone, let alone an adolescent boy. Effortlessly and unwittingly, he made mundane actions such as pulling a lever to open a valve look like exquisite dance moves. Despite being relatively small and thin in stature, he was strong, especially in the legs. Stepping on various pedals for hours straight never tired him out. His hands were not entirely smooth, but the most notable callus was on the knuckle next to the nail of his right middle finger.

"Ryszard Graszynski was not an average working boy. That was for sure. Nevertheless I failed to put my finger on his true nature. For a while I even thought he was a Pinkerton hired by the higher-ups to spy on us unionists, for I wouldn't put it pass them to let a kid do such hideous work.

"My futile wondering lasted only until the end of the second day of my acquaintance with Rysiek. That evening, I went to Red Hill after my shift had ended to help Mrs. Kyle-Grant—then Miss Kyle—distribute hot food, blankets, and oil stoves and fuel among destitute relief seekers. It was well into nighttime when the last of them received adequate care. When I reached my lodging, I found out I had left my keychain at work. On a normal day it wouldn't have mattered, as my landlady Mrs. Klein always kept on herself spare keys. That day, however, she went to stay with her daughter's family, who had enough coal to heat their rooms. I had no choice but to walk back to the factory.

"To my utmost surprise, I ran into Rysiek in the pressing room, who was huddling inside his tattered coat while leaning against the boiler of a press still lukewarm from that day's operation. There were scattered copies of old Gotham Gazette on the floor, with which I imagined he had stuffed his clothing to keep warm. Via moonlight, I could see he was visibly shaking, and his cheeks and lips had turned a blueish hue. Rysiek refused my offer to take him to Red Hill, mumbling about having lived through winters way colder back home. The only reason I didn't act against his will was that I soon figured Red Hill was too far away from the factory, and the long exposure to cold on our way there might worsen his condition. Still, leaving him be was unthinkable, so I bundled him up with half-finished army jackets in the storage and took him to my place. 

"The frigid night air did make him drowsy. Several minutes into our trip back to my building, unintelligible words began to fall out of his mouth—that was my initial impression; after a while I came to realize he was speaking a mixture of Russian, French, and English. Needless to say I was surprised by the turn of the event, but I did not dwell on it, for that was hardly the most urgent issue at hand. 

"I laid him down on my bed and covered him with all the fabrics I had at hand. Right afterward I heated some water with candle flame, which was the only source of heat I got at that time. I found some sugar in the kitchen downstairs and added several spoons into the mug before helping Rysiek drink it all. Thanks to warm liquid in his stomach, he regained full conscious minutes later. 

"I refrained from asking the one thousand and one questions bubbling in my chest because Rysiek needed rest first and foremost. I told him to get some sleep, and sat down on the corner of the bed against the headboard to try to rest up a little myself—chairs was a luxury I couldn't afford to have in the shoe box that was my room.

"Sleep eluded both of us. After a short stretch of silence, Rysiek said he knew I had harbored a curiosity about him. I couldn't possibly deny. Eyes cast downward, he let out a deep, sad sigh, and proceeded to tell me about himself.

"He began in Polish but soon switched to English, explaining that Polish was a language he hadn't used for a long time barring the past two days, and his command of it was quite rusty still. As for his English, besides being flawless, it was...distinctively English." 

"Indeed. I have to confess, Mr. Vanekow, this peculiarity is among the first things I found intriguing about Mr. Graszynski. Although years of Gotham has worn his accent smooth, there exists underneath the surface a hint of crisp, clipped King's English—the longer we conversed, the more appreciable it became."

"You have keen ears, Dr. Pennyworth. Rysiek learned the language under the guidance of an English gentleman. We'll get to that part before long. It turned out, Rysiek's birth name was not Ryszard Graszynski, but Robert Ivanovich Boyaroff-Vodarsky."

"Boyaroff-Vodarsky."

"Yes."

"Ivanovich...Golly, Is he by any chance a son of Monsieur Jean Boyaroff-Vodarsky, the ballet impresario?"

"You assume correctly, Dr. Pennyworth."

"...Simply _astounding_. Before the war, I enjoyed the productions of Les Ballets de Jean Boyaroff-Vodarsky multiple times both in England and on the Continent. I've had the pleasure to meet and speak with the father of Mr. Graszyn—Mr. Boyaro—how shall I refer to that young man now?"

"Rysiek prefers 'Ryszard Graszynski'. To him, the name 'Robert Ivanovich Boyaroff-Vodarsky' belongs to a chapter of his life that, although memorable, has already come to an end. Since Mr. Halicki passed away, Rysiek has ceased to use his old name altogether except in official documents. Mr. Halicki was the 'uncle' Rysiek had mentioned, though he in fact wasn't an uncle of Rysiek's. He plays an important role in Rysiek's story, despite coming into limelight relatively late.

"Having never heard of Mr. Boyaroff-Vodarsky and his dance company, I was decidedly less surprised than you were upon learning Rysiek's pedigree. Nonetheless, his recollection of life in Russia taught me the weight of his name in less than no time.

"His family lived on the Angliyskaya Naberezhnaya—"

"Le quai des Anglais! My father used to hold a post at the British Embassy in St. Petersburg situated on that very street. I visited him there the summer before I went up to Oxford. The trip left the young man I once was with such strong impressions. That was nearly two scores of years ago, almost like another world...One has to wonder how the most fashionable street in the old Russian capital turns out to be now...Ahm. I  _do_  apologise for my outburst of reminiscence. Pray continue, Mr. Vanekow."

"That address alone should've been enough, had I known anything about the high society in Imperial Russia. But I didn't, so Rysiek went on. 

"Both Rysiek's parents were born into immense wealth and belonged to the cream of society. Mr. Boyaroff-Vodarsky was not only the director of a world-famous ballet company but also a patron of all arts and an ardent philanthropist. Rysiek's mother Mariya Robertovna Boyarova-Vodarskaya, a socialite charity organizer, shared her husband's enthusiasm for culture and philanthropy.

"The Boyaroff-Vodarskys entertained in their mansion a wide variety of illustrious figures, art critics one day, royalties the next. Liveried menservants waited on them during spectacular feasts of all sorts of delicacies from caviar to cygnet laid out on gold and silver platters. When they went out, they patronized the best theaters, opera houses, galleries, museums and so on in St. Petersburg. Mr. Boyaroff-Vodarsky's career made him a frequent visitor to great cities throughout Europe. More often than not, his wife and son accompanied him.

"Rysiek grew up an only child, but he never suffered from loneliness. With their strong artistic and intellectual bent, his parents ensured first-rate education for their son in all conceivable subjects suitable for a gentleman with the help of a squad of top-notch teachers. Among them was the English tutor Mr. Rose, a former fellow of...I'm sorry, I can't recall exactly the name of that Cambridge college. Mr. Rose, who deemed traveling the world as a tutor to the Boyaroff-Vodarskys' child a fine preparation for his future literary career, formed a strong, affectionate bond with Rysiek. Unable to master the pronunciation of Robert's nickname 'Robertushka', Mr. Rose used the English diminutive 'Robin' instead. Rysiek's parents soon came to adore it, and adopted the usage themselves."

"'Robert' is quite uncommon among Russians."

"The name runs in his mother's line, which is part Baltic German. Mrs. Boyarova-Vodarskaya's immediate family hails from the Mazovian Lowland. Rysiek used to spend holidays with his maternal grandparents. Though the family spoke exclusively French and Russian, he picked up local language from servants and peasants around their estate. By virtue of this, Rysiek's Polish betrays nothing about his upper-crust upbringing. And that was the main reason leading him to look for work in the Polish community. He knew from the start his English would've raised so much unwanted attention, at least until he could manage to shed his cultivated tongue. Same with his Russian, French, German and Italian, all taught to him in their most refined form and significantly different from the lingoes of the working class.

"In addition to his accent, Mr. Rose introduced Rysiek to English culture and customs. Rysiek chose 'Ryszard' as his name out of his high regard for Richard the Lionheart, Good King Richard.

"Rysiek excelled in gymnastics and athletic training the same way he did book learning. The area in which he displayed phenomenal potential, however, was ballet. Mrs. Boyarova-Vodarskaya was a gifted and devoted amateur ballerina. She took daily ballet lessons with stars in her husband's company and the likes of the Imperial Russian Ballet. When he was about six, Rysiek joined his mother in those lessons purely for fun. Shortly, his aptitude began to manifest itself. Miss Bronislava Nijinska marveled at his balance and strength, saying she saw in Rysiek her own brother in his early years.

"Rysiek's passion for the dance form grew stronger and stronger with every passing day. Even though the Boyaroff-Vodarskys were heavily involved in the ballet scene, becoming a professional dancer was far from befitting for someone of Rysiek's position. His loving parents nonetheless indulged his passion, under the condition that Rysiek had to maintain satisfactory standard in other fields of his studies, hoping the hardship and tediousness of intensive ballet training would gradually dampen his zeal. Much to their dismay as well as pride, Rysiek went through years of serious ballet lessons on par with the programs at the Imperial Ballet School without ever considering quitting or compromising his academic achievement.

"I wish I could have a chance to see Rysiek then. He has never danced ballet, not a single move, in the years I know him. It's understandable, really. Once, we came across a freshly put up poster for the Ballets Russes on Finger Street. Looking up at the painted man supporting himself with the very tip of his toes, Richard's eyes were large and shiny, his lips curled up wistfully, and through them came a sorrowful voice coated with a veneer of jest. 'You know, Bruś, once upon a time yours truly could dance en pointe just like that!'

"That's not to say I've never seen him dance. During holidays, Rysiek oftentimes joins the celebratory dances. He stands out from any performance he's a part of—Oberek, Mazurek, Krakowiak, everything—and never fails to take the spectators' breath away. He does contemporary stuff too. The factory regularly hires new girls fresh of the boat or recently moved from rural regions. They want to explore the Gotham life but are at a loss how to start. Rysiek volunteers to teach them in-fashion dances and be their dance partner when they don't have anyone available. His kind gesture works wonder in boosting their confidence in becoming a modern, urban woman—the only downside is that Rysiek has to repeatedly decline job offers from persistent managers of nearby dance halls and dance studios who have set their mind on winning him over. 

"I digressed. Let's return to Rysiek's childhood in Russia. After the Great War broke out, Mr. Boyaroff-Vodarsky, who had past the upper end of conscription age, continued to lead his previous lifestyle, contributing to the war effort through fundraising performance and donation. Mrs. Boyarova-Vodarskaya added to her charity works the administration of the non-medical affairs of a military hospital she set up with friends in renamed Petrograd. Rysiek's life went on by and large undisrupted, except for the departure of Mr. Rose—he obtained a commission in the British army and left Russia to fight for his King and country. Years later Rysiek found out he died in spring 1917 in Flanders, the same time when revolution overturned Rysiek's world.

"To evade the turbulence in the streets of Petrograd, pregnant Mrs. Boyarova-Vodarskaya and Rysiek moved to an old Boyaroff-Vodarsky family estate in the southern countryside. Mr. Boyaroff-Vodarsky was then en route to South America with his troupe. After the Provisional Government proved to be incapable of establishing order, he returned to his family from Buenos Aires, leaving the day-to-day management of the Boyaroff-Vodarsky Ballet in the hands of his assistant. 

"Mr. Boyaroff-Vodarsky had by that time already planned out an extensive North American tour of his company commencing around the end of the year, as well as the relocation of his family to the United States. He promptly set out to recruit dancers, choreographers, costume designers, stage designers, composers and so forth in Petrograd and Moscow, many of whom felt uncertain about their future under the new regime and were seeking to leave the country. Things went as smoothly as they could, until news came from the front that Major General Boyaroff-Vodarsky, the elder brother of Mr. Boyaroff-Vodarsky, was killed in action by shellfire. 

"Manifold unforeseen responsibilities fell onto the shoulders of Rysiek's father, the new head of the Boyaroff-Vodarsky clan. He had to single-handedly make funeral arrangements and put his brother's house in order, for the general's wife left this world before him, and his two children were both not of age and away—one at the front, the other in a military academy. What Mr. Boyaroff-Vodarsky faced was no simple task in any situation, not to mention the political and social atmosphere in Russia had grown increasingly complicated. The general's untimely death played havoc with his planned out schedule, forcing the family to lengthen their stay in the country.

"The upheaval eventually came into direct contact with Rysiek in the form of a band of boisterous sailors who had demobilized themselves from the Black Sea Fleet but kept their weapon. They came knocking on the door of the manor house, demanding to be fed. Rysiek specifically remembered their uniforms were stained with blood. Mr. Boyaroff-Vodarsky was then in Petrograd dealing with a myriad of businesses, and all younger menservants on the estate had long been conscripted. Defenseless, Rysiek's mother had no choice but to acquiesce. After food the sailors asked for drinks. Mrs. Boyarova-Vodarskaya sent for bottles after bottles of expensive wine in the cellar. Fortunately, the band went away at the end of the day leaving only minimal damage. 

"The relief in the manor was short-lived. Those sailors, joined by others of the same ilk, came back regularly in the following weeks, making all sorts of outrageous demands. Having somehow heard about Rysiek's talent in dancing, they even 'invited' Rysiek to provide entertainment while they dined. Rysiek bit the bullet, fearing the real bullets in those ruffians' firearms tucked in their belts. The mother and the son yielded exceedingly far to placate the riff-raff while awaiting Mr. Boyaroff-Vodarsky to make ready their migration to the States.

"Rysiek's father finally managed to tie things up mid-September—late-September in the Gregorian calendar. The family of three and a couple of close servants would cross Siberia by rail, board a ship to Japan at Vladivostok, and then another one from Japan to the West Coast; after their landing, one more transcontinental train ride would take them to Gotham, where Mr. Boyaroff-Vodarsky's assistant had been making prearrangements for the tour on his behalf.

"Misfortune beyond human control once again thwarted Mr. Boyaroff-Vodarsky's effort to distance his family from turmoil. Early in the morning of the day they were to leave, Rysiek's mother started to show signs of premature labor—she was only seven months and a half along—likely due to the extreme stress she had endured lately. The shortage of fuel rendered their Delaunay-Belleville and Rolls Royce useless. Mr. Boyaroff-Vodarsky rode on horseback to the closest town to fetch a doctor before rushing back to his wife's bedside.

"Naturally, Rysiek wanted to remain at his parents' side, but they insisted he should travel according to plan, both having realized one more day in Russia meant one more day of danger for all of them. Rysiek had eavesdropped on his parents' hushed discussion on ghastly things Mr. Boyaroff-Vodarsky had seen and heard in the capital. They haunted him in dreams.

"The Boyaroff-Vodarskys entrusted the task of escorting their son to their loyal butler Mr. Halicki. Tickets and hotel rooms had been booked in advance; still, the journey would require various other expenses. Seeing that rouble notes had become practically worthless, Mrs. Boyarova-Vodarskaya asked her maid to take her jewelry box out of packed baggage and handed several items inside to Mr. Halicki to cover all the spendings.

"Rysiek bid farewell to his parents as the doctor's carriage arrived. Under the chaotic circumstance, none of them got to say much. Ingrained in Rysiek's memory were kisses from her mother's trembling sweaty lips and his father's promise to rejoin him soon in Gotham. That was the only promise Mr. Boyaroff-Vodarsky ever failed to keep.

"The journey took Rysiek and Mr. Halicki about five weeks in total. Their train arrived at the Union Station here in Gotham on November 3rd. They sent a wire to Rysiek's parents at every major stop beyond Siberia. The telegraph system in Russia had been in a semi-defunct state for months, so it wasn't a surprise that they didn't hear from them. What  _was_  a surprise was the silence from their destination. Rysiek and Mr. Halicki informed Mr. Boyaroff-Vodarsky's assistant Mr. Skeevers the name and the estimated arrival time of their ocean liner from both Vladivostok and Yokohama, but received no reply either time. The failed third try from San Francisco convinced them something must have gone wrong.

"Mr. Skeevers, who should have acquired an apartment in the Upper West Side for the Boyaroff-Vodarskys, didn't show up on the platform. Rysiek and Mr. Halicki went to his office straight from the train station, only to discover the address was occupied by a publishing house. Neither its proprietor nor the lessor of the office space had any idea on to where the former lessee had disappeared.

"Rysiek and Mr. Halicki checked into a hotel that night. Later they leased a modest set of rooms in Little Russia, so that Mrs. Boyarova-Vodarskaya's jewels would keep them going for longer. They had only those to fall back on, for without the presence of Mr. Skeevers, they couldn't get access to Mr. Boyaroff-Vodarsky's overseas bank accounts—because the October Revolution had just begun, millions of pounds, dollars, and francs under Mr. Boyaroff-Vodarsky's name had not yet been taken over by the government. 

"Meanwhile, Rysiek and Mr. Halicki's search for the whereabouts of Mr. Skeevers and the dance company went on. They eventually located what was left of the Boyaroff-Vodarsky Ballet—it was still in Gotham, but under a different name, and belonged to an Italian named Antonio Zucco. Old employees who'd been working with Rysiek's father for years had all been dismissed. The assistant still was nowhere to be found. 

"It was beyond the means of Rysiek, a minor, and Mr. Halicki, a family retainer, to take legal action against Zucco and the missing Mr. Skeevers regarding the illegal transfer of the ownership of Mr. Boyaroff-Vodarsky's company. Other than informing him the incident through a telegraph that had little chance to reach its intended destination, all they could do was waiting for the man to arrive from Russia and deal with the degenerates himself.

"The head of the publishing house instructed his clerks to forward any message addressed to Mr. Skeevers to Rysiek. Unfortunately, no words ever came from his family. It never rains but it pours. During their tenancy in Little Russia, Rysiek and Mr. Halicki somehow drew to themselves the attention of local thugs. It might have been Mr. Halicki's trip to the nearby pawnshop, or Rysiek's carriage and speech, or Rysiek's bespoke clothing, or something else. These are Rysiek's speculations; he never learned the truth. One night before Christmas, a gang of robbers broke into their residence, beating them up when they attempted to defend their property. 

"Rysiek and Mr. Halicki called the police, but the GCPD was very ineffective dealing with criminal activities within most immigrant communities due to language barrier. There was only one detective who could speak Russian in the entire department. Judging purely from the consequence, getting the police involved was a bad move: not only were they unable to recover stolen cash and artifacts, they lost their lodging as well. Rysiek's affluent background became public knowledge throughout the neighborhood after the police investigation—after all, not many people had several pieces of gem-encrusted jewelry to lose. Despite having collected another month's rent in advance, the landlord terminated their leasing contract, fearing that Rysiek could've attracted more violence and disturbance to his property. This line of thinking wasn't entirely unfounded: fueled by the Bolshevik's rise to power, anti-bourgeois sentiments had reached a new height among certain groups of Russian immigrants.

"As compensation, the landlord offered to repay Rysiek and Mr. Halicki twice the sum of monthly rent. Rysiek accepted the money, and spent the lion share of it on the medical treatments for Mr. Halicki, who took most of the beating shielding him and had fallen into poor health. 

"Penniless and homeless, with only the clothes they stood up in, Rysiek and Mr. Halicki sought shelter in the Municipal Lodging House when Mr. Halick's condition had moderately improved. Unwilling to impose on others' generosity for longer than necessary, Rysiek traded coat and shoes with a bootblack and set out to seek a source of income.

"The night I happened on Rysiek in the pressing room, the Municipal Lodging House was overtaxed due to the extremely harsh weather conditions, the children's floor in particular. After offering his cot to a consumptive boy and his little sister, Rysiek left the building to tough the night out in our factory. And that, Dr. Pennyworth, brings us to where this conversation started."

 

To be continued

**Author's Note:**

> The synopsis of  _The Golden Streets of Gotham_ can be found [here](http://dc.wikia.com/wiki/Batman:_The_Golden_Streets_of_Gotham).
> 
> In the story, Bruno Vanekow is a poor Polish immigrant; Joseph Chillingham III is the proprietor of a large garment factory; Selina Kyle is the mayor's daughter. To my disappointment, despite this pattern of social status reversal, Richard Grayson (birth name Rasch Gauero, formerly known as Robin Richards) is still an acrobat. As for Alfred Pennyworth, he owns the burlesque theater where Rasch's family works.
> 
> I can't help but think there are better ways to handle the characterization of both Dick and Alfred in this peculiar world, and thus this little fic is born. In order to fit the narrative, I moved the entire timeline forward for roughly seven years, and made Dick—in this case Ryszard Graszynski, birth name Robert "Robin" Ivanovich Boyaroff-Vodarsky (no I'm not sorry)—a little older than he is in the original story.
> 
> Thank you for reading. I apologize in advance for errors that are bound to exist in the text, for English is not my mother tongue. Also, I'm far from an expert in the histories, the cultures and the languages of Russia and Poland respectively. If you spot any mistake, please let me know. 
> 
> It would be really nice if you could leave any form of feedback, especially a comment. I'm very interested in what you think about this piece of work. Your input will make my whole day and then some. <3
> 
> Thank you again and hope you have a nice day! :)


End file.
